


Blackthorn

by Meg_Thilbo



Series: Stone Hearts [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Angst, Character Development, Dragon-lore, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Tagging as I go, Violence, do not read before Black Roses, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Thilbo/pseuds/Meg_Thilbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'This was bigger than he’d ever dared to realise and this knowledge, in the wrong hands, could threaten his own life as well as everyone around him, including Thorin and the dragons hiding in the North.' </p><p>Taking place 6 months after the events of Black Roses, Bilbo and Thorin find that they cannot have the peace they so desire just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome back everybody :)
> 
> Firstly, HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments at the end of Black Roses. They really helped get me motivated again and gave me tons of ideas for this fic :) This will be the last part in this series with how I've planned to end this fic, however that does not mean I am done with this AU- more on that later. Chapter updates will not be as frequent as they were for Black Roses, simply because RL is becoming more busy (A-level results tomorrow ahhh) so I'll aim for at least one chapter a week, probably more but we'll see as we go. 
> 
> Have a Majestic Day!
> 
> Warning: Graphic Violence right from the start

Who will care for the falling?

Who would care for the falling?

 

Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,

Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am.

Suddenly here, when I want to scream,

Autumn calms me down, keeps me in my dreams

 

“Whispering”- Alex Clare

 

_The world shrank below him- the mountains no bigger than trees and the people below no more than insects as he soared above them. He was too far above them to hear their frantic heartbeats and shuddering breaths but, oh he could imagine, and those very thoughts sent excitement jolting through his veins._

 

_They started to run and that did nothing but excite him further- after all, most of the fun was in the chase. Swooping lower, he could hear their hurried feet beating against the ground as the small family tried to get to safety. But no-one knew these mountains like he did; the only way these men were going to escape was going to be if he let them. And he was so hungry! Hungry, almost to the edges of impatience... but he waited, he always waited. He waited until he could feel the heat of their bodies and smell their air as it gushed out of their lungs- he wanted to feel how alive they were right before he took them. He wanted to know how afraid they were of him._

 

_When the smell of sweat and fear radiated out towards him, he folded his wings into a dive and aimed towards the first man who had lagged behind to urge his children onwards. As his claws sunk into the man’s back and he pinned him against the floor, the man let out a shrill cry of pain. The family screamed and he could only laugh in response, a deep guttural laugh which sent them shrinking in fear._

 

_“Run!” his first victim screamed to his family who had paused- torn between running and saving their family member. The man was losing a lot of blood, he could feel it welling up between his claws and he knew this man would not last much longer- much to his disappointment._

 

_Tears ran down the woman’s face as she looked between her husband and the creature on his back before urging her children onwards who reluctantly followed after her- their cries radiating off of the mountain sides._

 

_He let them go. Little did they know, they would not get far before reaching a sheer cliff face and then it would be all too easy._

 

_Turning his attention back to the man beneath him, he ran his snout over the man’s flesh, enjoying the smell of adrenaline which washed over him and the way he shuddered at his touch._

 

_“Please!” the man pleaded, his voice becoming weaker with the blood loss. For a moment, he didn’t think his victim would beg. It varied- sometimes they begged, sometimes they cursed him and others resigned themselves to their fate._

 

_Having heard enough and feeling impatient to start his chase again, he sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder, allowing the blood to well up into his mouth-_

“Bilbo!”

 

Bilbo jumped awake, sweat was running down his brow and his body quaked with the intensity of his shivering and his shuddering breaths. Emotions writhed inside of him, the lingering excitement which he had felt in his dream echoed through his mind but it was quickly replaced by fear of what he had dreamed of.

 

A hand touched his shoulder and Bilbo almost lashed out in response. His hands curled into fists to bring himself under control. He was always like this after his dreams, it was as though he was still dreaming, still the dragon which had been intent on hunting those people.

 

He could almost taste the blood in his mouth and it made him feel sick to his stomach, even with Thorin gently stroking his shoulder. Thorin knew not to force his comforting touches on Bilbo until he had come back to himself. When Bilbo had first had one of these dreams, he’d woken in such a rage that he’d lashed out towards Thorin, managing to hit the dwarf’s cheek as Thorin had not anticipated the attack. After Bilbo had calmed down, he hadn’t been able to stop crying for hours- he’d been horrified by what he’d seen and how he’d responded to Thorin. But the dwarf had just held him close and murmured a song into his ear until he had fallen asleep.

 

“I-I need...” Bilbo gasped out before jumping out of their bed and running to their bathroom. Once he was there, he grabbed hold of the toilet bowl and emptied whatever was left of their dinner into the latrine. His body sagged in exhaustion as he clung to the toilet, needing to feel something physical and real beneath his touch.

 

His throat burned and his mouth tasted foul but at least it drowned out any lingering taste of blood- anything was better than that.

 

“Bilbo?” a voice enquired from behind him.

 

Unable to say another word, Bilbo just nodded his head weakly to let Thorin know that he was over the worst of it and that he was allowed to come forward. Despite Bilbo’s assurance, Thorin moved slowly towards him, giving Bilbo enough time to move away if he needed to.

 

Thorin’s hand came to rest of Bilbo’s shoulder once more and it was suddenly not enough- releasing his hold on their toilet, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s chest and buried his face into the cloth of Thorin’s nightshirt.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo sobbed as Thorin wrapped his strong arms around Bilbo’s fragile frame. He was sorry for the sleep he was denying Thorin, sorry for not being able to be there, emotionally, for his dwarf, knowing that these dreams hurt Thorin almost as much as they did Bilbo, even if he wasn’t the one having them.

 

“Shhh,” Thorin soothed, rubbing his hands up and down Bilbo’s back in reassurance. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Thorin added softly, pressing a kiss against Bilbo’s curls.

 

Bilbo just tightened his hold, needing to feel Thorin’s warmth and body against his. He was thankful that Thorin never appeared in these dreams, he didn’t think he would be able to handle that. As such, when he did wake, Thorin was the only reason he could be sure that what he was seeing was real and not a dream.

 

Ever so slowly, Thorin moved them into a standing position so that they could walk out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom. Bilbo let Thorin guide him, keeping at least one of his hands fisted into the dwarf’s shirt.

 

They sat down on one of their couches and Thorin took one of Bilbo’s hands before asking, “I’m going to get you a cup of tea, is that okay?” Bilbo nodded his assent, allowing Thorin to untangle himself so that he could get Bilbo a drink which he knew would help to soothe him.

 

However, sometimes it wasn’t okay. Sometimes, it took him longer to come out his dream and he needed Thorin more than ever.

 

He really should be getting used to this by now. For the past 4 months, his sleep had been plagued, on and off, by these dreams- dreams of hunting and killing... dreams of being a dragon. They terrified him. It wasn’t the content which scared him, it was how he _felt._ He enjoyed it and that was the worst part. Part of him wondered whether the lives he’d taken before and during the battle had finally broken his sanity and darkened his soul. The only assurance he had was that he felt disgusted when he was finally awake and it was not uncommon for him to be found lying in the bathroom by Thorin, who did not always wake when Bilbo was having a nightmare.

 

Bilbo’s sickness had caused him to lose more weight and Thorin had insisted on him eating more at breakfast and lunch at least, even if he couldn’t hold down what he had at dinner.

 

He curled up against the cushions whilst he waited for Thorin to return, the sounds of his movements next door reassuring him that he wasn’t alone. He considered going and getting Smaug’s Heartstone to speak with the dragon but he felt too weak to move. Smaug had come back slowly over the past few months, his soul gradually recovering from death and he’d spoken to Bilbo more and more. When the dreams had first started, he’d wondered whether they were Smaug’s memories that he’d inadvertently picked up when exploring the Heartstone. But Smaug had assured him that they were not his and that they were not Mountains he knew, even having extensively explored the Misty and the Grey Mountains. He’d also assured Bilbo that people seldom ventured into the Grey Mountains so contact between people and dragons was very rare since the dragons often hid themselves away when anyone did dare explore their territory. Only Smaug had been daring enough to scare them away, not quite daring to attack them in his youth for fear that he would be caught once more by these hunters. But he did enjoy using the echo of the Mountains to intensify his roars and frighten them away.

 

However, this lack of answers only aided to confuse and worry Bilbo all the more.

 

When Thorin re-entered, Bilbo managed at weak smile which did nothing to quell the worried frown which was spread across the dwarf’s face. He uncurled himself to accept the steaming mug of tea with a murmured, “Thank you.”

 

The dwarf returned to his previous position, wrapping one of his strong arms around Bilbo’s shoulders and pulling him to his chest slightly, just giving him enough room to sip his tea.

 

“They’re getting worse,” Thorin noted, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of Bilbo’s shirt.

 

“I know,” Bilbo sighed, “They’re becoming more vivid too.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thorin asked gently.

 

Bilbo paused for a moment, considering whether he was ready to admit what he’d seen and done in his dream. But if he was going to get any sleep that night, he needed to say something at least. “It was similar to the others,” he started shakily, “I killed a man this time. And I would have gone on to kill his family if you hadn’t woken me.” Bilbo didn’t look up at Thorin’s face, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if Thorin looked as disgusted at him as Bilbo felt towards himself.

 

“No,” Thorin protested, “Bilbo look at me.”

 

Reluctantly, Bilbo lifted his head to stare into Thorin’s burning blue eyes, seeing his own tired face staring back at him from their blue depths.

 

“You didn’t _do_ anything- that wasn’t you. The Bilbo I know would never harm another soul. The dreams are not real, you said it yourself that they don’t feel like visions,” Thorin argued gently.

 

Thorin was right, they didn’t feel like the dreams or visions he’d had during the quest. These felt darker, more invasive, as though they were trying to infect the very fabric of his mind.

 

“I-I know... It’s just that I feel so _angry_ and... and it’s like, part of me enjoys it. But when I wake up, I feel so confused. It’s as though I can’t separate out the dream-me and the real-me. What if one day I wake up and I can’t separate the two? What if that becomes who I am?” Bilbo asked desperately, taking a deep sip of his tea to calm his shaking hands.

 

Thorin was silent for a few heartbeats and Bilbo wondered whether he didn’t have an answer that. What do you say to something like that?

 

“I’m not letting you go, Bilbo. I nearly lost you once- I’m not losing you again. I don’t care whether I have to march to Valinor myself and speak with Lord Irmo about these dreams, they will not take you from me,” Thorin assured him firmly.

 

Bilbo couldn’t hold back a small smile at Thorin’s protectiveness. Whatever was causing these dreams, he did not think it was the Valar, Yavanna had wished him to have some peace after all and this was far from any peace he’d wanted to have.

 

Setting his now empty mug on the table, he snuggled closer into Thorin’s hold and kissed the dwarf’s lips gently, allowing his eyes to slip close and the warmth of their embrace to consume him for a moment.

 

As they pulled back, they kept their foreheads connected and stared into each other’s eyes to convey a silent message of reassurance.

 

“Do you need me to get Oin?” Thorin asked.

 

Bilbo just shook his head slightly, moving his hand up to stroke Thorin’s bearded cheek with his thumb. There was no use waking up more of Erebor because of his own troubled sleep. They’d often gone to Oin for sleeping draughts to help him get off to sleep after his nightmares, but Bilbo didn’t like the effect they had on him. They left his mind slow and groggy the next day which would not do when he’d promised Ori he would help in the library- he’d need all his concentration if he was to decipher Khuzdul runes and find their proper place amongst the maze of shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. Ori had also said that he had something to show Bilbo, no doubt another fascinating book that had gone neglected long before the dragon had come.

 

“You should go back to bed,” Bilbo said tiredly, feeling guilty that Thorin was losing sleep on his behalf.

 

Thorin gave him a small smile and moved so that Bilbo was once again curled up against his chest with his head pillowed on his shoulder. “The bed is too cold without you,” Thorin pointed out which settled the matter. He knew that if Bilbo did not want to sleep, he would not want to go to the one place where his dreams always followed him. It only served as a bitter reminder of the nights spent with sleep broken by cries and sometimes screams.

 

Bilbo chuckled nonetheless at Thorin’s protest. “Tell me a story,” he said, relaxing slightly in the King’s hold.

 

“What?” Thorin asked, confused and surprised by the request.

 

“Well, what stories do dwarves tell dwarflings? I’ve heard all the Shire tales, I want to hear yours.” Despite working in the library, he’d only come across a few children’s books and only a couple of them had been in a condition viable for reading. He was curious to know whether the Shire and the Mountains shared any tales. However, he did not think dwarves would be depicted in their stories as the sneaky, mischievous creatures that they were in the Shire- stories of dwarves carrying fair Hobbit lasses to their dungeons to where they were never seen again. Those stories were mainly used to discourage wandering as adventurous young faunts were known to do. That had never stopped Bilbo though and he snorted to himself when he realised that the Hobbits back in the Shire must believe him to be now one of those Hobbit-lasses who had been kidnapped, even if he had sent word back to the Shire that he was indeed alive and that Lobelia should keep her sticky paws off his belongings until he could settle his estate.

 

Ignoring Bilbo’s snort, Thorin replied, “Well, there’s the story of Gilbert the beardless, the dwarf who couldn’t grow a beard so he made one out of gold. It ended with a goblin cutting his head off for his beard,” Thorin said casually.

 

“That’s awful,” Bilbo complained, although he appreciated the distraction, “And you shouldn’t tell me the ending before you’ve even told the story.”

 

Thorin shrugged slightly, careful not to jostle Bilbo’s head, “It’s a classic. I think it was supposed to teach us to accept the way we are and not to do stupid things to be accepted.”

 

“Or you’ll get your head chopped off?” Bilbo snorted, imagining what Thorin would look like in a gold beard.

 

Thorin chuckled, “Something like that.”

 

“Did you do anything?” Bilbo asked, suddenly curious what Thorin must have been like as a dwarfling. Would he have felt the pressure of becoming a King so young?

 

“What?”

 

“Did you do anything stupid as a dwarfling?” Bilbo clarified, putting Thorin’s confusion to the lack of sleep.

 

“Oh...  When I was in my thirties, Frerin once dared me to rub boar dung over an Elven Lord’s boots whilst they were sat at dinner,” Thorin admitted.

 

“What happened?” Bilbo asked curiously.

 

“Whilst I was busy crawling under the table, Frerin took advantage of my, err, position, to shove boar dung down my own breeches. I jumped so violently in surprise, I ended up kicking Frerin in the face and banging my head on the table. Father caught us and we were forced to apologise in front of the entire court, still wearing our clothes that were covered in dung. We weren’t allowed to take them off until we had to go for bed,” Thorin winced, and Bilbo smirked when he saw Thorin’s ears turn red.

 

“Now that I would have liked to see,” Bilbo chuckled, his tension having considerably reduced.

 

“Aye, but you wouldn’t have liked the smell. Mother made us have three baths until she deemed us remotely presentable,” Thorin grumbled.

 

Bilbo hummed, “You must have missed a bit,” he joked.

 

“Shut up,” Thorin said without malice, playfully squeezing Bilbo’s hip. “You’re the one with your face buried in my shirt,” Thorin pointed out.

 

“That’s true,” Bilbo conceded, nuzzling further into Thorin’s hold as though to confirm the point. After a moment, they both burst out laughing at the strange turn the night had taken, Thorin’s deep chuckles vibrating through his chest under Bilbo’s ear. Even if these moments were borne out of anxiety and pain, Bilbo treasured these parts nonetheless. Between council meetings, helping in the library and gardening as well as Thorin attending to his duties, these moments had become rarer and rarer. Yes, they always spent their evenings and mornings together, but they were often too exhausted to spare more than a few words and light kisses before collapsing into bed or staggering off to meet the day’s demands.

 

As if he could hear Bilbo’s thoughts, Thorin said softly, “I’ve missed you,” resting his cheek against Bilbo’s hair.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” Bilbo agreed, “What are you doing tomorrow? Or today I guess,” he chuckled humourlessly.

 

Sighing, Thorin answered, “I have a housing dispute to settle and then I need to visit the mines and check that the deeper ones are ready for re-opening. After that, I have to attend court and listen to the problems of my people before making a dent on some contracts and paperwork I need to work through.” Bilbo didn’t envy Thorin, he sounded exhausted just saying it. But it didn’t seem he would be getting Thorin back tomorrow and he racked his brains to try and find a day in their busy schedule where they could just take a few hours for themselves. When his mind only served to remind him of his own volume of jobs and promises, he sagged in disappointment and his mood darkened slightly.

 

Sensing Bilbo’s mood and his intention, Thorin added with a smile, “But I guess I could sneak away a few hours early and ask my sister if she’ll repay me for giving her a break by looking after her sons for a few months.”

 

His mood lightening a little, he looked up at his dwarf, “You don’t think she’ll mind? You did lead her sons into battle and that’s not mentioning us nearly getting eaten by trolls, spiders and getting imprisoned by Elves.”

 

“I think she’ll take some paperwork off me, she’s always telling me I work too hard,” Thorin assured him.

 

“You do, you’ll work yourself to an early grave,” Bilbo grumbled, “I feel bad, giving her more work when she’s not been back long, but I would like to see you tomorrow evening.”

 

Pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s brow, Thorin asked grinning, “What did you have in mind?”

 

“I’ll surprise you,” Bilbo replied mischievously, he needed time to think just how exactly he wanted to spend those precious few hours however several ideas did spring to mind.

 

“Then it’s a deal,” Thorin smiled.

 

Feeling all the more relaxed and with sleep edging into his mind, Bilbo untangled himself from Thorin’s hold and took his hand to tug the dwarf to his feet. “Let’s go back to bed or we’ll be dead on our feet when we do have to leave,” he said groggily, leading Thorin who obediently followed Bilbo back to their bed.

 

It didn’t matter that Thorin was often the one holding Bilbo close at night, it worked for them and that was all that truly mattered. Sometimes their positions changed, but Bilbo enjoyed the warmth and security of Thorin’s arms that acted almost as barriers against the wolves that howled at their door. And Thorin needed to feel Bilbo under his broad hands, needed to know he was still there as Thorin himself was not immune to nightmares, although his were less frequent and less disturbing than Bilbo’s.

 

And when their embrace was broken from the violence of their dreams, they often unconsciously found each other again and their bodies fit back against each other with such perfect precision that Bilbo had to wonder whether the Valar had been involved. They had interfered in almost every other aspect of his life after all.

 

“I never did get my story,” Bilbo mumbled when they were finally settled back in bed, with their hands entangled and Thorin’s arm draped over Bilbo’s waist.

 

Thorin pressed a kiss to the back of Bilbo’s neck. “Tomorrow,” he promised, his body sagging slightly as sleep dragged on his limbs.

 

“Tomorrow,” Bilbo agreed, but even with sleep stirring within him, he did feel anxious to return to the hellish place that had become his dreams.

 

Knowing that Bilbo was torn between sleeping and simply waiting for the dawn, Thorin began to sing a simple dwarven lullaby which he’d told Bilbo his mother used to sing to him and his siblings when they were too excited to sleep.

 

“The hammer has fallen, the forges are still,

The dwarrows, they sleep in their stone cradle,

As the Mountain keeps them warm

And fills their slumber with gold and hopes and dreams.”

 

With Thorin’s deep voice penetrating Bilbo’s frail chest, the hobbit fell asleep before Thorin had even reached the second verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, some fluff, I thought I'd thread the main plot through these next few chapters and then we'll get onto more plot-heavy chapters. Let me know what you think so far ^-^ I'll probably end up tweaking and changing parts of these drafts as I go, you will not believe how much I tweaked Black Roses, what seems right in draft sometimes just doesn't work in practice but I'm pretty confident with the main plot anywho. 
> 
> I'll try and get the next chapter up soon :) Have a Majestic Day!


	2. Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo uncovers some disturbing information in the library and Thorin has plans of his own

 

The mountain was already awake by the time Bilbo and Thorin left their chambers the next morning. Guards stood to attention at the end of every corridor and dwarves ran to and fro as they rushed to attend their morning duties within the kingdom. It was still grossly under-populated but with dwarves arriving every week from the Blue Mountains and some dwarves even emigrating from the Iron Hills, the mountain was not as empty as it had been and so its recovery was gradually accelerating as more and more hands flocked to help.

 

In the past six months, the men had rebuilt the less damaged parts of Dale and had successfully housed most of the small population of Woodlandale. The previous master had stayed behind the longest, furious that he had been unseated by a mere ‘bow-man’ but even he, with his vast wealth, could not survive on his own with Mirkwood spiders still prowling the edges of the forest. The Elves had made a valiant attempt to wipe out the spiders from their lands but behind every leaf and every trunk, hung another spider and they had been forced to withdraw their efforts in favour of recovering from the battle and aiding the rebuild of Dale and Erebor, as their alliance demanded.

 

The alliance had held, growing gradually stronger in the wake of everything they’d lost. At times, between arguments at court and tense council meetings, Bilbo had feared that the friendships he’d fought so hard to build would dissolve before his very eyes. But they had held fast thus far, and Bilbo was not going to see all his work unravel over matters as petty as public bickering and due payment for aid. Even Thorin, with his renowned temper, had held his tongue when Thranduil had sneered at him again and again, knowing that to retaliate would only worry Bilbo. And they were getting little enough sleep as it was.

 

Thorin didn’t tell Bilbo of half of his nightmares or that he would often lie awake for a long while after Bilbo had fallen asleep, waiting for Bilbo to start tossing and turning so that he could soothe him back into more pleasant dreams or wake him if they became too violent. Bilbo had enough to worry about with these dreams putting strain of his already fragile sanity on top of worrying about Smaug and the dragons of the North.

 

He hadn’t broached the subject with Bilbo, he knew Bilbo would when he felt he was ready and Thorin was still feeling conflicted over allying themselves with the dragons. He had to remind himself that his issue had lain with Smaug and that dragon was as good as dead, he could do no real harm from within his stone prison as Bilbo had explained to him and he trusted Bilbo to make the right call on this. Bilbo clearly knew the dragons on a level he never would and he could not help but feel indebted to the dragon that had saved his life- why had that dragon decided to help him when so many dwarves, elves and men were struggling around him? Had he wanted to save Thorin or kill Azog, or even perhaps do both?

 

“You’re brooding again,” a familiar voice said from his right. Looking down, he saw Bilbo smiling tiredly up at him. He wished he could wipe away those dark circles under his eyes; they only served to remind him that Bilbo had had nightmares every night for the past week and Thorin had kicked himself every time he’d passed out before he could wake Bilbo and had woken up the next morning to find Bilbo curled up on the bathroom floor, too exhausted to even make it back to bed.

 

However, he forced himself to smile back at Bilbo although he knew it did not quite meet his eyes. “Just thinking about today’s meeting,” he lied, he didn’t want Bilbo to know that he lost more sleep than he really let on, Bilbo felt guilty enough as it was thinking he woke Thorin up during the night.

 

“Keep scowling like that and you’ll win the debate outright,” Bilbo joked, pushing the King playfully.

 

Thorin let out a slight chuckle, it wasn’t his fault if his brooding and his fighting expressions were so similar. “Are you sure you don’t wish to attend today’s meeting?” he asked. The meetings were always less boring with Bilbo there, not many people dared to argue with the hobbit who had ridden a dragon into battle. However, Thorin did have to admit he did get distracted with Bilbo there, it was just too difficult to concentrate when Bilbo was making him proud.

 

“Pretty sure,” Bilbo replied, “I promised Ori I would see him in the library, he’s got something to show me.”

 

“As you wish,” Thorin grumbled, not looking forward to the day’s events.

 

Far too soon, they came to the section of the corridor where they would have to part, Thorin taking the path to the right for the throne room and Bilbo taking the path to the left for the library.

 

Ignoring the, not so subtle, observers around them, he took Bilbo’s hand in his.

 

“Tonight?” Bilbo said nervously, as though waiting for Thorin to remember some important meeting that he couldn’t possibly miss.

 

“Tonight,” Thorin assured him and added a kiss for confirmation. The touch was feather-light, and was soon followed by a firmer and much surer press between lips. Thorin cast one final thought to the surrounding dwarves before losing himself to the sensation of Bilbo against him. Part of him felt guilty for not having gone through a full courtship with Bilbo, as typical dwarven tradition demanded, but as far as anyone else knew, Thorin had courted Bilbo on their quest as the rumours often said when they looked at Thorin’s braid firmly held behind Bilbo’s ear.

 

It was not entirely descent for courting couples to kiss publically but as far as Thorin was concerned, he was the King and if anyone could break propriety, it was him, even if Bilbo reminded him often that he was supposed to uphold every tradition and law within the kingdom as the King.

 

However, before the kiss could become more than a few simple movements of lips, a throat cleared from behind him and they were forced to break apart. Thorin couldn’t hold back a smirk when he saw Bilbo’s face flushed with embarrassment and from the heat of their kiss.

 

Bilbo’s eyes drifted to the figure behind Thorin before giving his dwarf a final smile and heading off towards the library. Thorin watched him leave for a few heartbeats before turning and heading in his own direction. The intruder fell into step next to him.

 

“You’ll cause a public scandal at this rate,” Dís scolded, it not having been the first time his sister had caught them kissing in the corridors.

 

Thorin didn’t look to see her disapproving expression, he knew it was there. “You’re starting to sound like mother,” Thorin remarked dryly.

 

“Well someone’s got to,” Dís huffed, “Where’s Dwalin? Shouldn’t he be guarding you?”

 

“I hardly need guarding, sister. I’m nearly 200 years old,” he replied, “I sent him ahead to ensure the nobles are seated for my arrival.”

 

“Sent him ahead so you could have more time with your hobbit,” Dís remarked.

 

“... that too,” Thorin admitted, but he really didn’t want the nobles running around like headless wargs when he got there and Dwalin was the perfect dwarf to scare them all into position, or at least, that’s what he told himself. “It shouldn’t be a problem soon, anyway,” he added defensively.

 

Dís stopped in her tracks and grabbed Thorin’s arm to stop him opening the doors to the throne room, “What do you mean?” she asked smiling slightly, excitement glinting in her eyes.

 

Thorin winced when he realised he’d let on more than he’d meant to. “Nothing,” he said, but he knew that, of all the dwarves in Erebor, he could not fool his sister.

 

“You’re going to propose!” she gasped out as though Thorin had just confessed. “Do you think that’s wise with, well, everything that’s going on?” Her excitement morphing into concern before the King even had the chance to collect himself.

 

Dís was one of the few dwarves within Erebor who Bilbo had told about his dreams, the two having become fast friends since her arrival in Erebor only a few weeks ago. Naturally, with Bilbo’s relations with the dwarves of Erebor and men of Dale still wavering between respect and fear, he did not want it to be public knowledge that he was dreaming of doing exactly what they were terrified of the dragons doing.

 

Lowering his voice to prevent any nosy dwarves overhearing, he bent his head closer to his sister’s, “And when will be the right time?” he asked desperately, this had been something he’d thought on a lot over the past few months, “Bilbo’s sick but that’s not why I’m rushing into this. Bilbo is still set on starting a revolution, Mahal knows when, and we may not get another moment of peace once that starts.”

 

Dís’s face softened at Thorin’s words, “Dear brother, I just want you to be sure.”

 

“I am,” Thorin said firmly, Bilbo was his One, there was no denying that.

 

“Then you need not convince me further,” Dís replied, satisfied. “Perhaps a wedding is just what this mountain needs after everything that’s happened. As a distraction, if nothing else.”

 

Thorin just nodded in response, nerves setting into his stomach.

 

“When?” she asked him suddenly and he didn’t need her to clarify further to know what she’d meant.

 

“Tonight,” he replied, it just felt like the right time.

 

“Ah, so I suppose you’ll be wanting me to take care of your paperwork?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Please,” Thorin pleaded and he’d beg if he had to, which Dís would no doubt enjoy, “I promised Bilbo I’d take the night off.”

 

Dís laughed at his discomfort, “Fear not, brother mine, I’ll see it done. But you owe me.”

 

“Thank you,” Thorin breathed in relief.

 

“Have you forged the final bead?” she asked, as though expecting a negative.

 

“Of course,” he replied, he’d forged it in plenty of time for this moment, having carried it in his pocket for weeks and taking it out on occasion to make sure it was still there and not damaged.

 

“Good,” his sister smirked, “Then I suppose we should continue?” she said gesturing to the doors behind her.

 

Sighing, he nodded and moved forward to push open the double-doors.

 

The only thing that was going to get him through these meetings was the constant promise of, ‘tonight.’

 

 

~~~~~~~(ooo0000ooo)~~~~~~

 

 

Bilbo was still blushing when he reached the library, the scratch of Thorin’s beard and the warmth of his lips still a fresh memory on his skin. Casting his eyes around the opening to the library, he realised Ori wasn’t here yet, he’d been earlier than he’d thought.

 

Deciding that he may have a while yet to wait for his friend, he moved off to the back of the library where he could have some privacy and pulled out Smaug’s heartstone, hoping that no-one, other than Ori, would bother going into this derelict section of library.

 

He smiled when Smaug’s mind met his and he found himself within the plain of Smaug’s consciousness. Around him were mountains that faded into nothingness when Bilbo looked too closely, their existence depending on the projection Smaug cast. This world held no real physical bearing, Bilbo knew if he went up to one of the nearby stones or trees, his hand would fall though it as though it was made of smoke but it was far more comforting than talking to Smaug through the inky blackness which had initially filled the dragon’s mind, his brain becoming closed off and defensive shortly after his death, not having fully understood what had transpired moments before he’d last seen Bilbo.

 

This projection was an ability Smaug had learnt to do in order to bring stability to his sanity, having had little else to do whilst Bilbo was busy within the real world. He simply focussed on a particular memory of a place he’d been. Sometimes, they would speak in Bag-End, sometimes within the Misty Mountains or Erebor, the venue always seemed to correspond to Smaug’s mood.

 

Bilbo guessed, therefore, judging by the dark sky above and the clouds which clung to the Mountains, that Smaug was worried about something.

 

“ _You did not come yesterday,”_ Smaug growled, his voice echoing over the scene.

 

“Apologies, my friend, but I had other matters which required my attention,” Bilbo answered gently.

 

“ _You’ve been dreaming again,”_ It was not a question and Bilbo was not surprised he knew- this mind thing worked both ways after all. “ _Is that why you have come?”_

“Do I need an excuse to speak to an old friend?” Bilbo retorted, not enjoying Smaug’s suspicious tone. “But yes, I have been dreaming again. What do you make of it?”

 

He winced as he felt Smaug sift through his memories of the previous night, quickly skipping over his interaction with Thorin to reach the dream. Concentrating, Smaug projected parts of the dream onto the scene around Bilbo in order to get a clearer picture of what he’d experienced.

 

The family came into view, the mother, father and two children who stood staring in horror at the beast in the sky which could take no form since Bilbo had never seen what he looked like, having always experienced the dreams through his eyes.

 

“Do you recognise them?” Bilbo asked Smaug, trying to not think ahead to what had happened to them.

 

“ _No,”_ Smaug replied and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, even though his questions were usually met with the same answer. “ _Again, these mountains I do not recognise.”_

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said in frustration, “They must be _somewhere_. I’ve looked in all the books of geography in Erebor, all drawings of the Mountain ranges of the North and the South and nothing looks familiar. Unless this really is just a dream and I’m simply going mad.”

 

“ _Perhaps,”_ Smaug conceded, “ _But Mountains change. Have you considered that this is a memory or a glimpse into the future?”_

 

“Of course I have,” Bilbo retorted, rubbing his temples, “But that doesn’t explain where they’re coming from. I highly doubt these are from the Valar and they’re not yours, so who’s are they?”

 

 _“I don’t know,”_ Smaug replied calmly. He was forced to keep himself calm, any strong expression of emotion brought the world he’d built for Bilbo crashing down around them. _“But another’s mind is near, you are about to be intruded upon.”_

Bilbo tensed up, it was probably Ori, but then they couldn’t take any risks, “I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he pulled his mind back and found himself sat on the library floor once more.

 

He blinked his eyes a few times to bring the shelves back into focus as he slipped Smaug’s heartstone back into his pocket, just in time for Ori to round the corner.

 

“What are you doing on the floor?” Ori asked in concern, probably fearing for Bilbo’s health as all the company was at the moment. They didn’t know the exact nature of his dreams- only that his sleep was very disturbed and his health was not at its best.

 

Bilbo smiled reassuringly, “Just looking at some of the books on this bottom shelf,” he replied, brushing off Ori’s concern and the dust from his trousers as he stood.  “You said you have something to show me?” he said expectantly, wanting to change the subject when Ori continued to frown at him, looking between him and the shelf of books.

 

The reminder was thankfully enough to distract Ori and his eyes lightened, “Yes! I found a book that I think will be of interest to you,” he said hurriedly, disappearing back behind the shelf, naturally assuming Bilbo would follow him.

 

Curious, Bilbo followed after Ori, nodding to the occasional dwarf they happened upon within the vast maze of shelves that the young dwarf was leading him through.

 

Eventually, Ori came to a stop and looked around himself to make sure only Bilbo was with him before pulling out a heavy volume and laying it on a nearby table where it landed with a thud and a cloud of dust. Moving forward, Bilbo stared down at the book whilst Ori bushed off the worst of the dust from its leather cover.

 

Bilbo let out a small gasp when he the Khuzdul lettering came into view and he just managed to read, ‘Dragons of the first age and their dark companions.’ Dark companions? Could they mean...

 

“I found it last night,” Ori explained in whisper, “I thought it may be of interest to you? I haven’t read it. I figured you should read it first, in case there’s anything here not valid.”

 

“Thank you, Ori,” Bilbo said gratefully, staring nervously down at the book. He was grateful that Ori had not just jumped in. No doubt this book was going to contain some disturbing information pertaining to Smaug’s and, by extension, his own heritage. He didn’t want Ori knowing this before he had a chance to decide whether he wanted to share this information, although he knew Ori would never think ill of him.

 

Taking a deep breath, he un-did the clasp holding the covers together and turned to the first page where lay a short introduction. Furrowing his brow in concentration, Bilbo read to himself, not daring to utter the words out loud in case any unseen ears hung in wait behind a shelf.

 

‘ _From Glaurung, the father of all dragons, to Ancalagon the Black, Middle Earth has played host to its fair share of terrible beasts within the first Age. Their legacy lives to this day, in the foul serpents of the North which have diminished in size and strength since the passing of the past two ages. Harmless they shall remain, unless another shall rise- a Great Dragon or one of their dark companions who have the power to bring the North down on us. The Great Dragons are assumed to be extinct, however, rumour holds of another hiding in the shadow of the Grey Mountains. Rumour or not, another threat still exists. These Dark Companions, as I have dubbed them, or Drakunfren as they say in their evil tongue, have power these dragons do not. They have the power to walk among us, as simple people, unbeknownst to us as they conspire to raze our cities with their winged friends. The first was Morgoth, the creator of dragons and innumerable foul beasts in this land. This book documents what came during and after the first Age, how dragons and their dark companions have smelt our history and how they threaten the very land on which we live.’_

Bilbo’s hand shook as he came to the end of the first paragraph, the blood draining from his face. This was bigger than he’d ever dared to realise and this knowledge, in the wrong hands, could threaten his own life as well as everyone around him, including Thorin and the dragons hiding in the North.

 

As though fearing someone may come and read this book over his shoulder, he snapped the cover shut and hefted the book under his arm, startling a poor Ori who jumped at the movement.

 

“I need to get this out of here,” Bilbo explained, he couldn’t risk anyone finding this. The safest place for this was his and Thorin’s chambers.

 

Ori nodded quickly, “Understood.”

 

Nodding in thanks, Bilbo took off and walked with quick footsteps out of the library and headed back the way he’d come, eager to read more of this dark history before he would keep his promise to Thorin.

 

If the rest of the book was as foreboding as this starting paragraph, Bilbo had no doubt that if he was to induce a revolution successfully, he would have to move soon. He could not wait and allow these fears to fester between the two races of dwarf and dragon.

 

It was time he stopped pretending he was anything less than Bilbo Drakunfren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of dragon-lore for you, Glaurung was the first dragon and later gave rise to all dragons. Ancalagon the Black was the greatest of the winged dragons of the first age and is thought to be the largest dragon to have ever lived. Ancalagon's death was the final blow to Morgoth's resistance in the War of Wrath where many dragons also fought for Morgoth.  
> More dragon-lore and dragons yet to come :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Any mistakes, please let me know :) Thank you all who have returned and welcome any newbies! 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	3. The Best laid plans...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... of mice and men often go awry

Bilbo didn’t hear the door to their chambers open; he was still engrossed with the book in his hands. He hadn’t read far, he’d mostly read and re-read certain sections, trying to make sense of the Khuzdul and giving himself time to take in everything he’d read. From what he’d learnt, just within the first couple of chapters, dragons and Drakunfren had a dark and bloody history, starting with Morgoth and now stretching to the present day. In the past, Drakunfren had been corrupt men and spirits, servants of Morgoth who could wind their way into society and whisper into the ears of Kings, causing rifts in alliances and families and ultimately leading to war. And when the wars were concluded, with one side defeated and the other battered and bruised, the sky would darken and the sun would be blocked by the sweeping wings of dragons who would lay waste to whatever was left and gain more land and power for their dark lord.

 

However, the time of prosperity for dragons did not last. The Maia saw what was happening and warned the kingdoms and their Kings to be wary of strangers. Elves, with the ability to look into the souls of others, were able to sense the Drakunfren among them and execute or banish those that they found. Fewer and fewer bonds were made between dragons and their fellows and suspicion grew between them, many Drakunfren being killed by dragons and vice versa as they suspected one another of being traitors. With discord reining heavy in the North and its surrounding lands, the men, Elves and dwarves aligned to launch an attack on the dragons, driving them back into the Mountains where they were protected by the sharp peaks but they were trapped. Starving dragons tried to move south once more but they were hunted and killed by legions of men trained for such killing and eventually the Great Dragons dwindled and fell into bed-time stories used to keep children from wondering. Drakunfren were forgotten to all but a few, perhaps the fear that one of their own could help commit such atrocities was one that was all too real for people to hang onto. Stories of mystical dragons taking princesses and being killed by courageous knights made far better stories for the camp-fire than the harsh reality of war.

 

The past itself was not what truly worried Bilbo, this happened centuries ago and the world had moved on. What did worry Bilbo was that, should this information become public knowledge, it may take decades for the fear and suspicion to die down again, and that was time Bilbo did not have, by that time, war may yet have come again and history could repeat itself, turning the tables on who the true masters of Middle-Earth were. And where would it place Bilbo? As the King’s consort, would many fear that he was doing what Drakunfren had done before- manipulating Kings for their own desires for blood and smoke? He would have to make sure this book stayed between those he trusted until he could end the age-old feud and add a new chapter to this book, one that would put a lighter edge on dragons and his kind. Knowledge, Bilbo decided, was a tool he was going to have to wield with care if he was to be successful.

 

“What are you reading?” a weary voice asked just a few centimetres from his ear, causing Bilbo to jump and shut his book with a thud. Whipping his head around hard enough to make his neck click, he ended up with a face-full of dark hair that he quickly recognised, he’d buried his face enough times within it over the past few months to know Thorin’s hair from touch and smell alone.

 

Managing to pull his face back to stare at Thorin’s amused, yet tired, face, Bilbo spluttered, “Give a hobbit some warning. Yavanna’s pitchfork, you nearly put me to seed!”

 

Chuckling, Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s leaf-shaped ear, “Apologies, my Halfling, but I did announce myself several times. I can make my presence more well-known in the future however,” he almost purred, pressing another light kiss to the tip of his ear, causing Bilbo to forget for a moment why he was annoyed with Thorin in the first place.

 

“Y-you should,” Bilbo gasped, his voice becoming momentarily disarmed by the sensation of Thorin at his ear. Thorin just hummed in response, running his nose back down Bilbo’s ear and reaching his jaw.

 

However, the smell of food eventually broke through to Bilbo’s senses, just before Thorin could press another feather-light kiss to the top of his neck. Blinking several times, Bilbo playfully grabbed one of Thorin’s braids and pulled the dwarf away from his neck who went with some reluctance and a disgruntled sigh.

 

“No, dinner first,” Bilbo protested, putting his book onto the floor and taking Thorin’s hand as he got to his feet.

 

Thorin snorted, “You and your stomach,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“You’ll thank me later,” Bilbo retorted, leading the King over to the dining table, “Our dinner’s been keeping warm on these fire stones but I’m not risking it spoiling.”

 

“Of course not,” Thorin answered as he took his seat whilst Bilbo nipped off to fetch their dinner. He’d nipped down to the kitchens on his way back to their chambers with the book and had asked them to allow their dinner to be served separately tonight. They’d usually dine with the company but Bilbo was not in the mood for Dwalin and Gloin’s insistence on downing as much ale as possible then Fili and Kili telling everyone rude jokes whilst Thorin contemplates which of his nephews he wants to inherit the throne. No, some peace and alone-time would do nicely, thank you very much!

 

When Bilbo returned with their plates of food, he noticed that Thorin had become rather sombre and was staring at the opposite wall with one of his buried awkwardly in his pocket. He snapped out of it when Bilbo placed down a plate of steaming hot venison in front of him and he slipped his hands onto the table to grab his cutlery and smile up at Bilbo. But even Bilbo, in his slightly sleep-deprived state, couldn’t help but notice his smile didn’t meet his eyes.

 

Taking the seat opposite, with his plate of vegetables, Bilbo passed off Thorin’s behaviour as being down to the long days and stressful court meetings.

 

“How was court?” Bilbo asked pleasantly, shoving a piece of potato into his mouth.

 

The dwarf jumped slightly and looked up at Bilbo, as though he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh... good, good. Well... you know,” Thorin replied, somewhat lamely and Bilbo _did_ know- even the best days at court were not without their fare share of trivial matters that beg the question of why they needed the King of all people to resolve them.

 

“Did you sort out the housing dispute?” Bilbo asked sympathetically. He’d had to resolve many with Thorin as dwarves returned to the Mountain. Many dwarves had lay claim to properties that were not their own and as a result, court proceedings were needed in order to fully indentify which rooms belonged to who. Usually, they were resolved once a proper examination had been done on the rooms as they found scattered belongings and paintings of family members that would point to one particular owner. However, it was not always that easy. Poorer families had not had the gold to get their family painted and their possessions were few and far between.

 

“Housing dispute... yes. The two rooms in the lower quarters belonged to the Kerd family as it turned out. The housing deed the Turgs had put forward was forged,” Thorin replied, cutting his meat with a little more force than necessary.

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bilbo said, “Well that’s good news. I’m glad Lonlo and his family finally have their home back. But it wasn’t as though it wasn’t blatantly obvious the document was fake, as if they were just carrying that round with them on the day the mountain was attacked. No dwarf in their right mind would see a dragon coming towards them and decide that the item they’ve got to take with them in their housing deeds,” he exclaimed.

 

Bilbo had expected at least a chuckle from Thorin at the strange image he’d painted but Thorin was once again, distracted. The dwarf was chewing on a piece of venison, but he must have been chewing on it for quite some time, for one his hands had moved back to his pocket and the other was resting lightly on his fork.

 

Worried that the reminder of the day the Mountain was lost had triggered something with the dwarf, Bilbo set his cutlery down and reached out with a hand to cover Thorin’s whose eyes then snapped up to Bilbo’s.

 

“Are you okay?” Bilbo asked, concerned. “You seem a little distracted.”

 

“Perfectly alright,” Thorin reassured him with a small smile. But his eyes softened considerably at Bilbo’s concern and that helped to reassure him above his words. “How was your day? You told me Ori wanted to show you something,” he prompted.

 

Moving his hands off of Thorin’s so that he could continue eating before his food grew cold, Bilbo answered, “Yes, yes he did. Uh...” he trailed off, considering how best to answer without really bringing up the exact nature of the book, he didn’t really want to be discussing it when they’d finally gotten a moment to themselves.

 

“Was it that book you were reading?” Thorin asked with a slight frown, noticing Bilbo’s conflicted expression.

 

“Yes. He found it in the library. It’s nothing really. Architecture, that’s sort of stuff,” he said dismissively. He’d tell Thorin the truth on the morrow, he was sure he wouldn’t mind the small white lie.

 

But then Thorin threw him a confused glance, “I didn’t really see it, but I was sure the page you was reading was discussing something about dragons. I thought it was just a book on dwarven stories that you had wanted to read.” And why would he lie about reading stories for dwarflings?

 

Unable to take the lie any further, he’d had enough of those over the past year, Bilbo steadily set down his cutlery and took Thorin’s hands between his. “Look... Ori found a book on Drakunfren and well, it turns out that the past nature of these people isn’t exactly, ah, pleasant. And it may be time to start moving the alliances forward, as we discussed... but really I-”

 

“You want to start a revolution, _now_?” Thorin asked, suddenly serious and tensing under Bilbo’s gaze.

 

“I think that would be best, but-”

 

“You can’t!” Thorin insisted.

 

What? “Why not?” Bilbo asked, growing somewhat irritated at Thorin’s insistence on pursuing the subject and ignoring his attempts to move the conversation off of this and onto something lighter.

 

“Because... because you’re sick, or have you forgotten? You are in no fit state to travel.”

 

“No, I haven’t forgotten, but we don’t have as much time as I thought we did. If this information gets into the wrong hands... You have to support me on this Thorin,” Bilbo pleaded, feeling somewhat desperate. He knew Thorin was apprehensive about the idea but he hadn’t expected him to be so defensive.

 

“Did Smaug put you up to this?” Thorin asked suddenly, his eyes flashing in anger and Bilbo retracted his hands at the words, feeling stung. Thorin was not always comfortable with Bilbo talking to Smaug but never had it come up in an arguement.

 

“No! No-one put me up to this. What is going on with you? One minute you can’t get your hands off me, the next you can’t focus on anything past chewing and now you’re like this!”

 

Thorin’s jaw clenched and he stared at Bilbo for a moment who met his gaze, his mouth slightly open as he tried to understand Thorin’s dramatic mood swings.

 

For a moment he didn’t think Thorin was going to answer but then he said gruffly, refusing to meet Bilbo’s gaze, “Either way, I’m not letting you.”

 

And that was the final straw for Bilbo, his exhaustion, anxiety and irritation finally boiling over, “Not letting me?! I will do whatever I damn well please Thorin Oakenshield, you had best remember that!” And yet, he still didn’t understand what had gotten into Thorin. Whenever Bilbo had mentioned his future plans, Thorin had always supported them and assured him he would be with him on this. “Now I will ask you one last time- what is the matter?”

 

Thorin didn’t answer, he just stared at the table, his hand clenching as though to stop himself from doing something.

 

When the silence dragged on and neither one made a move, Bilbo decided he’d had enough. “If you’re going to be like this, you can stay here on your own,” he said irritably, pushing himself away from the table and out of his seat so he could storm towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Thorin called after him and Bilbo didn’t answer. If Thorin was not going to answer any of his questions then he was not going to answer any of his. In truth, he didn’t know where he was going, only that he wanted to get out of there and take a walk at the very least. How had a pleasant evening gone downhill so quickly?

 

When he slammed the door behind him, Bilbo thought he heard a crash from within but he paid it no heed. If Thorin was going to start ruining their furniture, he was not going to babysit the King and calm him down. To be honest, he could do with smashing something right now, which was a feeling quite alien and unknown to him.

 

Choosing a course at random and slipping on his ring to stop Thorin following him, Bilbo set off down the hallways, his shoulders tense and hunched and his fists clenching and un-clenching as the words of just the past few moments raced though his mind. He couldn’t help Thorin if he refused to talk to him, something which Thorin constantly chastised _him_ about. They had their communication problems at times, both of them feeling as though the other was keeping stuff from them but they’d dutifully respected the others privacy. Everyone was entitled to their secrets but when those secrets threatened their relationship or their peace, Bilbo was not going to sit idly by and let them fester.

 

He would go back to their chambers eventually, he couldn’t avoid Thorin forever and he didn’t want to. He’d let Thorin calm down and organise his thoughts in that thick skull of his and then he’d go back.

 

But it was with that thought that Bilbo cast his gaze about himself and he realised he had no idea where he was. The corridors were dusty and dark, rubble still lined the pathway and the air felt cold and foreboding, almost as if it hadn’t been disturbed in a long time.

 

Somehow, he’d managed to wonder into a section of Erebor that had yet to be cleared. How long had he been walking, lost in thought? Or had he just taken a series of paths that he’d never taken before? He didn’t know.

 

Whilst he was all for exploring new sections of Erebor, Bilbo did not quite feel that he wanted to be doing that tonight, on his own and his stomach now reminding him that he’d barely eaten. Not that it mattered now, he doubted he’d be able to keep his food down now. His nightmares were always worse when he was anxious and he doubted he would be sharing Thorin’s bed tonight, which begged the question- where was he going to sleep?

 

Whatever the answer was going to be, it was not going to be in this corridor. Staying calm, Bilbo retraced his steps, using the disturbance in the dust to indicate where he’d gone. He decided to take off his ring as he walked, just in case he passed someone else who could point to him the way out. He’d grown used to the rings effects to the point where he barely even noticed them. The dimness in colour he didn’t notice when he was distracted by his thoughts and the coolness he felt around him barely even bothered him anymore. In fact, it felt pleasant, like having a cool flannel on your forehead after a hot day. Bilbo had used it frequently in the aftermath of the battle. It was easier to walk through the corridors when people couldn’t see you but Thorin didn’t like him using it, not after Bilbo had used it last time after his confession.

 

Although he used it less often, Bilbo always carried it with him. You never knew when you may need the ability to become invisible and every time he had tried to put it away in a drawer, he’d just pulled it back out again.

 

His thoughts were pulled away from the ring when he noticed a sliver of light coming from the bottom of a small section of wall. There was something behind it!

 

Curiosity perked, Bilbo walked to the wall and pressed his ear against it lightly, straining to hear any noise beyond it. He could hear voices, but the exact words failed to form from the senseless hushed tones that filtered through the stone. There must be a room, just next to him and in it, dwarves, hopefully of the friendly kind. There were still dwarves within the mountain that were not afraid to show their distaste of him, but they were a minority. The rest supported Bilbo, were indifferent or kept their feelings to themselves which suited Bilbo fine.

 

Having dithered enough, Bilbo looked over the stone surface for any sign of a handle or lock that might indicate how he went about opening said door, if it was a door that is and Bilbo hoped to Valinor and back that it was.

 

When his search came up empty, he tried brute force instead and pushed forcefully on the wall. It worked far better than Bilbo intended and the door swung open, allowing Bilbo to stumble inside and cover his eyes whilst he adjusted to the sudden onslaught on light.

 

“Bilbo!” a familiar voice shouted and Bilbo uncovered his eyes to find himself in the kitchens. And in the kitchens were a very guilty trio of Bofur, Bifur and Nori standing with the surrounding cupboards open and food around their feet.

 

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked as he walked towards them, looking around and realising that the whole room was empty save for themselves. Just how long had he been wondering around the corridors?

 

They looked between each other and then Bofur shrugged as the silent message passed between them. “Err, just gettin’ a midnight snack,” Bofur replied with a wink, “Care to join us?”

 

Bilbo’s stomach answered with a growl, “Sure,” he said, taking an offered slice of beef and popping it into his mouth. Even if he wasn’t going to keep this down, it was better than dry-heaving.

 

“But the real question is, what are you doin’ at this late hour, Bilbo?” Nori asked as he cut himself some bread, “You seem to have found one of my passages through the Mountain.”

 

“Have I? I barely noticed where I was going if I’m honest Nori,” Bilbo answered, trying to remember how he’d managed to get where he was but it was all missing from his memory.

 

“I thought you and Thorin were having a night in?” Bofur asked and Bilbo grew slightly irritated, feeling as though he was being interrogated.

 

“Well, we _were,_ ” Bilbo huffed but he knew they wouldn’t leave it at that and Bifur asked something gruffly in Khuzdul, slapping his arm threateningly. Whilst his written Khuzdul was coming along, Bilbo still struggled to make out spoken words, the accents varied so much and he daren’t try and speak it. Thorin’s face had been purple the last time he’d tried and ended up completely butchering the words, much to the King’s amusement.

 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Bofur, asking for the translation. Bofur chuckled, “He says- ‘have you two had a fight? What has the Royal idiot done now?’”

 

Bilbo smiled despite his mood, “Yes, sort-of. I don’t really want to talk about it so will you pass me that apple?”

 

“Gladly,” Bofur answered, tossing Bilbo the fruit as though it was going to forcibly jump down his throat.

 

Bilbo bit into the fruit’s flesh, allowing the sugary juice to seep through his teeth... and he nearly spat it back out again when he was again reminded on his dream. But he forced himself to keep eating and his fellow dwarves did not notice his sudden episode, probably passing off his slight grimace as being a mark on the fruit’s flavour.

 

“Bilbo, what are you doing here? Where’s Thorin?” a voice called from the doorway.

 

Looking around, Bilbo met the eyes of Dís who was staring at him with more concern than he’d ever seen her have. All he was doing was helping Bofur, Bifur and Nori raid the cupboards, surely that didn’t indicate anything serious had happened?

 

“That’s wha’ we’re tryin’ t’get to the bottom of,” Nori said through a mouthful of cheese.

 

Dís strode into the room and came to stand before Bilbo, her arms crossed and face calculating, “What did my clot-head of a brother say?”

 

Realising that Dís was not going to leave without answers, plus she looked scarier than Thorin when she was this serious, Bilbo said, “What didn’t he say?! He has a huge mood swing and then basically says I’m forbidden to leave the Mountain! And when I asked what was wrong with him, he just sat there so I left.”

 

“Mahal below, I’ll chop his beard off!” Dís said angrily.

 

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Bilbo asked her, knowing that she’d been with him throughout most of the day.

 

Dís’s face softened somewhat but her eyes held all their fury, “I may have an idea...” she trailed off, “I need to speak with him,” she said before promptly turning tail and walking back the way she’d gone, leaving an even more befuddled Bilbo behind her.

 

Bilbo stared after her and for a few moments no-one spoke, the only sounds being the noises of Nori’s eating.

 

“I assume you’ll want to stay with us tonight?” Bofur asked casually, sticking his hand into a jar.

 

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, “Please,” he said.

 

“Anytime Bilbo,” Bofur said with a smile.

 

He just hoped he didn’t have any nightmares tonight, but then, he already knew the answer to that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry these updates are a little slow atm guys, but I'm doing my best with what time I have I'm afraid and my muse is a bit under the weather atm, (hence copious one-shots) and I'm struggling with writing the next chapter :( but I'll get through it!  
> Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Any mistakes, please do let me know :)
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	4. Hopeless Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin begin reconciling

He shouldn’t have let Bilbo go. But he didn’t think he would have been able to stop him even if he’d tried. He’d managed to mess things up _again_ and despite his anger and frustration, he knew that Bilbo had been well within his right to walk from him. Thorin had just wanted some more time, although he could hardly tell Bilbo why now.

 

After Bilbo had left, he’d waited for him to return. He’d hoped he would, so that he could apologise and salvage whatever they’d had left of the night. But Bilbo had not come. No doubt, he’d bedded down with another member of the company. However, Thorin did worry whenever Bilbo roamed the halls of Erebor alone, parts of the Mountain just weren’t safe. And whilst Thorin could be sure that he didn’t need a bodyguard, Thorin knew he would sleep safer at night if he knew Bilbo had someone they trusted with him at all times. He’d broached the subject a few times but Bilbo had shot him down, assuring him that he had the ring and was not as helpless as he thought Thorin believed.

 

Despite waiting in worry, Thorin had not been able to hold off sleep forever and he’d dozed off on one of their seats, his head lolling against his chest and his breaths coming in deep and measured huffs.

 

A firm shake of his shoulder brought him away from sleep’s hold, not that his sleep had been particularly deep, the uncomfortable position and the worry brewing at the back of his mind had prevented him from properly drifting off.

 

Grunting unhappily, Thorin blinked open his eyes and hoped to meet the eyes of his burglar. However, instead he was met with the disapproving gaze of his sister, her lips pursed in a way which was uncannily like their mother. As soon as he saw her, he was tempted to shrug her off and return to the blissful ignorance sleep offered. But judging by the way her eyebrows were knitted together, she would not be leaving without a fight. And a fight with his sister was one of the few he could be sure not to win.

 

“What happened?” Dís snapped as Thorin sat up on the seat and stretched his sore back.

 

Thorin frowned at her question and it took him a moment of fumbling through his thoughts to properly gather what she had meant. 

 

Before he could answer, however, she ploughed on, crossing her arms to stand over her brother. “I’ve just found Bilbo and three members of your company raiding the kitchens. He looked a mess and seemed quite upset and angry. When I asked him what had happened, he said you’d forbidden him from leaving the Mountain! What in Mahal’s name were you thinking?!”

 

Groaning, Thorin put his head in his hands. “Is he alright?” he asked somewhat desperately through his veil of hair.

 

“Of course he’s not bloody alright! You’ve seen to that. Now I ask you, what happened that made you say something so stupid?”

 

Taking a deep breath, Thorin answered, “He wants to go North and start his treaty preparations for allying the dragons with us.”

 

“And you responded by telling him he can’t,” Dís concluded, looking thoughtful.

 

“... yes,” Thorin admitted regretfully. “I just... wanted more time.”

 

His sister’s face softened considerably at his words as she saw the reason behind the mishap of events. “You could still propose you know,” she said, taking the seat next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“How can I?” Thorin asked bitterly, shaking his head, “Bilbo has set his mind on this and I don’t want our wedding to be surrounded by bitter politics. I want to have our wedding when we can look forward to a period of peace, not travelling to those forsaken Mountains to treaty with beings that will take decades more to be accepted.”

 

“Thorin, you do realise that the perfect time you seek may never be realised?” Dís said softly, “If not now, when?”

 

Thorin considered his answer before giving it, not truly knowing himself when they would have another pocket of time for them to simply live in happiness and peace. “When we are both ready,” he said firmly, in a way which assured his sister that there was no more room for argument. Whilst his sister was an excellent diplomat and strategist, Thorin was also incredibly stubborn, to such an extent that even Dís could not sway him. Thorin had been so sure that this was the right time, but that had been before Bilbo had found that book and moved their plans forward. Now... now he couldn’t truly be sure of anything, except that he wanted to be with Bilbo, in any way that he could. And if that meant putting aside his own desires for Bilbo’s, then he would. He always would.

 

The silence that had stretched between them was broken when the door to his chambers burst open. Startled, Thorin automatically reached for Orcrist before realising that he didn’t carry the weapon in his chambers. However, he found he did not need it when he looked to see Bofur standing in the doorway, red-faced and bent over double as he attempted to catch his breath.

 

Alarmed, Thorin got to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dís imitate him, her face equally concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently, his thoughts straying towards Bilbo. But Bofur could be here for any number of reasons, there could have been a theft, a cave-in, a fight, nothing that would necessarily have to do with Bilbo.

 

“It’s Bilbo,” Bofur gasped out, “We don’t know what to do... he was fine but he started screaming and we couldn’t get him to wake up.”

 

“Where is he?” Thorin asked quickly, his stomach clenching painfully and his eyes turning desperate and impatient.

 

“In-In our chambers,” Bofur breathed and it was all Thorin needed to hear. Knowing the mountain like the back of his hand, Thorin immediately sprinted off in the direction of the ‘Urs chambers. Many guards and passing dwarves frowned as Thorin raced past them, faltering in their bows and solutes as they registered the grim determination set across their King’s features.

 

When he finally reached the set of rooms, he knew to be belonging to Bifur and Bofur (Bombur having moved in nearby with his family), Thorin wasted no time in pushing the door open, his sprint reducing to long strides as he looked around for his burglar.

 

A cry from the next room alerted Thorin to Bilbo’s presence and he hurried on through, entering the room to witness the scene in front of him. Bilbo had pressed himself into the corner of the bedroom, his hands fisted into his hair and his face as white as a sheet. Bifur was stood just a few paces away from him, attempting to get closer to the hobbit but every time he did, Bilbo would push himself further into the wall, his feet pushing against the ground in an effort to distance himself from the dwarf.

 

Thorin stepped forwards, forcing himself not to rush at the hobbit and take him into his arms then and there. Bifur heard Thorin approach and turned to his King, “ _I managed to get him to wake up but he won’t let me near him, I’m worried he’ll hurt himself,”_ Bifur said, in Khuzdul , his voice filled with worry and concern, clearly torn as Thorin was on how to approach the situation.

 

Remaining calm, Thorin said, _“Thank you Bifur, will you please hurry and get Oin?”_ He wasn’t sure yet how this was going to end, whether Bilbo would need to be sedated or whether he would need any wounds seeing to that he may have inflicted upon himself. The memory of the morning after visiting the Eagles stirred at the back of Thorin’s mind.

 

Bifur nodded quickly, hurrying out of the room. It may be better if Thorin was alone with Bilbo, since he seemed so afraid and frightened of something that Thorin could not quite pinpoint.

 

Since Bifur had left, Bilbo had reduced himself to a small ball in the corner, his breathing coming ragged and his face hidden behind his knees. Moving steadily, Thorin approached the hobbit and crouched just shy of a metre away from him.

 

“Bilbo?” Thorin inquired softly, and the hobbit flinched in response causing a flicker of pain to spread through the dwarf’s chest. One of the worst parts was always that, for a moment at least, Bilbo was afraid of Thorin. The knowledge that some part of Bilbo feared that Thorin would hurt him reinforced Thorin’s insecurities of whether Bilbo trusted Thorin, an insecurity Thorin knew Bilbo shared. They tried to reassure one another that they did, but after everything that had happened, only time was truly going to be the test of the trust for one another.

 

Bilbo’s breathing came a little easier but he did not show his face, nor move from his corner. “I’m going to touch you now, Bilbo,” Thorin said soothingly, inching closer to the hobbit. Emboldened when Bilbo did not flinch or move away, Thorin reached out and placed one of his hands over Bilbo’s, not quite holding it and he gently stroked the tension out of Bilbo’s fingers. After a few moments of gentle touching, the tight grip Bilbo had on his hair loosened and he allowed Thorin to pull his hands away, mindful not to hold them too tightly or firmly, he didn’t want Bilbo to feel trapped or forced in any way.

 

Releasing Bilbo’s hands, but keeping an eye on them should Bilbo decide to lash out towards Thorin or himself, Thorin moved his hand down Bilbo’s back, feeling the curve of his spine as he attempted to soothe  the tension out of his neck and shoulders. His other hand, he moved to the opposite side of Bilbo’s head, gently stroking his hair between the pads of his fingers in a way that would help to reassure Bilbo that it was Thorin and no-one else that was with him.

 

As Bilbo began to relax and his breathing eased, Thorin wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s fragile frame, pulling him into his chest so that he could envelope him in his warmth. He wanted to be able to protect Bilbo, protect him from these nightmares, and protect him from the cruelty he has seen and what lay outside of the security of their chambers. But he knew, against all his wishes and attempts, that Thorin could only protect Bilbo to a certain extent. He would try to help Bilbo fight his demons, but only Bilbo knew what he needed to do in order to tackle them. Thorin was just a hopeless wanderer in that sense, guided only by what Bilbo said and asked of him.

 

Hearing movement next to them, Thorin raised his head to see Oin, Bifur, Bofur, Dís and Nori hesitating in the doorway, their faces filled with worry and concern. Thorin nodded his head shortly to Oin, letting him know that he was okay to come forward.

 

As Oin crouched in front of Bilbo, he gave the hobbit a sweeping glance, assessing whether the hobbit had any obvious wounds.

 

“Do you have an injuries Bilbo?” Thorin asked softly, bending his head close to the hobbit’s ear.

 

Bilbo lifted his head and his face had regained some colour, just a small splash of red against his cheeks that contrasted to his pale skin. Thorin was glad to see his eyes were no longer wild as they had been, Bilbo had come back to him.

 

“I-I don’t think so,” Bilbo rasped, his throat raw from his cries.

 

Oin looked to Thorin for confirmation, Bilbo’s voice to soft for him to hear and Thorin shook his head. Nodding, Oin took out a small wooden cup which he filled with a dark liquid from a flask in his bag.

 

“Here you go, lad,” Oin said, passing the cup to the hobbit who gingerly accepted it, “Tha’ll give you a dreamless sleep for a few hours.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” Bilbo said immediately, his eyes becoming fearful once more and he threw Thorin such a pleading glance that it sent a stab of anxiety through the dwarf.

 

Thorin forced himself to smile reassuringly, “Bilbo, you’ve hardly slept all week, you need some rest,” he argued.

 

“I can’t, Thorin. Please don’t make me,” Bilbo pleaded, in such a way that it confused Thorin. Bilbo never begged him. Just what had Bilbo dreamed about?

 

Whatever it was, Thorin knew Bilbo would not want to discuss it here. Taking the cup from him, Thorin asked, “Are you ok to stand?” to which Bilbo nodded shakily and Thorin used the arm he had wrapped around him to steady the hobbit as he got to his feet.

 

“Nori, is there a quicker way back to our chambers?” he asked the dwarf who nodded swiftly, hurrying to one of the wall panels which yielded to his touch.

 

“How long’s tha’ been there?” Bofur asked in awe as the secret tunnel was revealed.

 

Nori winked, “They’re everywhere, you just need to know where to look,” was all he said before leading Bilbo and Thorin down the tunnel, the other dwarves staying behind out of respect for their privacy but no doubt they’d stay together for a while, waiting should their assistance be needed.

 

The tunnel was long and dark, but it wasn’t long before Nori opened up another doorway which opened up to reveal the familiar spread of their chambers. Thorin nodded his thanks to the thief and spy-master before Nori shut the door behind them, the doorway becoming invisible once more.

 

Alone at last, Thorin led Bilbo over to one of their armchairs which he sat the hobbit into. Knowing that Bilbo would not want to be alone, Thorin took one of the footrests and sat down across from Bilbo, taking both of the hobbits hands between his after setting the cup onto the side-table.

 

“Bilbo, I’m so sorry for my behaviour and what I said last night... if I hadn’t-”

 

“No, no don’t blame yourself,” Bilbo assured him, slipping one of his hands out of Thorin’s to cup the dwarf’s cheek, threading his fingers through Thorin’s beard to elicit a blissful sensation. “But I stand by what I said, I _need_ to do this. And I will do this whether you help me or not.”

 

“I will always help you. I’m sorry... I was just afraid and surprised,” Thorin excused, feeling ashamed of his behaviour towards Bilbo when the hobbit was going through enough as it was. He wasn’t to know what Thorin had planned, and although he still bitterly wished for more time, he could not force Bilbo to face the guilt of putting their own plans on hold.

 

Bilbo smiled weakly, his exhaustion evident. “Do you wish to tell me what you dreamed of?” Thorin asked apprehensively.

 

Bilbo shook his head, “Not right now,” he murmured, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a meeting or something?”

 

“Not for a few hours, it’s still early,” Thorin replied, “If you will not talk, will you sleep?” he asked, gesturing to the cup sat on the table.

 

A silence grew as Bilbo considered the cup next to him before nodding shakily and that was all the confirmation Thorin needed. He got to his feet and held out his hand for Bilbo who sighed before slipping his hand in Thorin’s, allowing the dwarf to pull him to his feet. Taking the cup in the other hand, Thorin led Bilbo over to their bed; consciously aware of how soft and warm Bilbo’s hand was in his.

 

Once Bilbo was sat in bed, the covers pooled around his waist, Thorin gave Bilbo the cup. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Thorin assured him as Bilbo stared apprehensively at the contents. He knew Bilbo didn’t like taking it, but they had little choice.

 

“You need sleep too,” Bilbo insisted, “neither of us gained much sleep last night.”

 

Understanding Bilbo’s intention, Thorin kicked off his boots and slipped into the opposite side of the bed. Settled, Bilbo took a deep breath before downing the contents in one, his face pulling into a disgusted expression as the contents slipped down his throat. Immediately Bilbo’s arm weakened and Thorin hastened to take the cup from him, setting it on the table.

 

As Bilbo’s body began to relax and his eyelids started to flutter, Thorin guided Bilbo down the bed, wrapping himself around the hobbit as he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

One more day, Thorin promised himself, he would have one more day with Bilbo before this all began. He’d messed up last night, he was not going to waste the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapters a little short and that it took me a while to update, I was just really unhappy with this one for a long time :/ but I think I'm ok with it now. I'm sorry if things seem a little samey at the moment, there is a reason for it, I promise!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Have a majestic day!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates posted here: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/


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